


A Beautiful Letdown

by akiko



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime), 로봇이 아니야 | I am Not a Robot (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Allergy to Human Contact, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Anxiety, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator, Vicchan Lives, past trauma, socially awkward viktor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-04-20 05:06:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14253651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akiko/pseuds/akiko
Summary: Viktor is a socially awkward penguin (not literally) who can't touch people or else he'll die, but manages to befriend a robot. Yuuri wants to dance and sell his (admittedly niche-targeted) products, but is instead pretending to be a robot for a socially awkward loner. They don't really like each other.Meanwhile, Phichit just wanted to build a robot that could empathize with humans, and Yuri just wanted to make Viktor happy again. Nothing goes to plan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ((title from _beautiful letdown_ by switchfoot))
> 
> it's finally here!! i've been debating whether i should write this or not, because while i do want to write it, i've been religiously avoiding writing a multichapter fic for years now (around 6 years now, maybe? good lord). but then i thought, fuck that, my laptop is shitty anyway, so if i can't always draw this au, then i'll write it. so here it is. (i'll still draw comics, though. you can find them over at my art blog [@akibouken](http://akibouken.tumblr.com/). and [here](http://akibouken.tumblr.com/private/171800167033/tumblr_p5hmdsxeG01ur8pa1) is a timeline for the comics, if you'd prefer to read them chronologically.)
> 
> many many thanks to [maranhig](http://archiveofourown.org/users/maranhig) for beta'ing this monster of a mess, even though this fic has neither of xer fandoms lmao. may your crops flourish and your skin be cleared <3
> 
>  
> 
> **a few notes:**  
> 
> 
>   * **the comics are my priority** , if only because i'm already like... 1/6 of the way through with it. because of this, **fic updates will be inconsistent** , but i will i try.
>   * **yuri and mila are both aged up** , for the sake of the story. **yuri is 20 and mila is 27**. everyone else is their in-canon ages.
>   * viktor, yuri, mila, and georgi all grew up in japan, so they **mainly speak japanese to each other**. they speak russian when they don't want to be overheard.
>   * the **main plot points of the kdrama will be the same/similar** (such as the origin of the allergy), **but a lot will be altered or completely rewritten** to stay more true to the yoi characters' personalities and relationships with each other. also because this is set in japan, some things (like traditions, settings, etc.) will of course differ from the kdrama, which is set in korea.
>   * due to circumstances and the different culture he grew up in, **viktor is not as shameless about his body** as he is in canon. **he's also a little bit more rude** than in canon, also due to circumstances which made him a socially awkward penguin.
> 


The bed was cold.

He couldn’t remember what he was dreaming about. Usually, he would take this as a sign that there would be a good day ahead of him.

But the silence he’d woken up to was even more palpable because he was alone in bed, and the sheets were so, so cold.

He turned his head to the side, his hand reaching out for someone on instinct and coming up empty. His eyes shut tight as he gripped the blanket, willing himself not to cry again. He was tired of crying. His eyes still felt sore, his chest tight, but it was too much now and he just wanted everything to stop.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d lain there, crying his eyes out, and then after the tears had finally stopped, just staring at the empty space in his bed. It could’ve been hours. He hoped it had been hours. He just wanted the day to end.

“Viktor,” a gruff voice said.

He closed his eyes and curled into himself a little more. Maybe if he pretended to still be asleep—

The blanket was thrown off him.

“Yura!” he yelped, sitting up and whipping around to glare at the younger man.

The entire blanket had been wrenched away from the bed, Yuri holding it as far away as he could while he and Viktor glared at each other.

Viktor sighed, “I thought you had matured now, Yura. But I see you’re still the same grumpy teenager. Show some respect to your boss!”

Yuri scoffed, and flicked his thick braid off his shoulder. “You’re the one acting like a surly teen,  _sir_.”

“...That’s not fair, Yuri,” he whispered, lowering his eyes as tears threatened to fall again. He saw Yuri wince, both because of guilt and of Viktor dropping his diminutive.

After a heavy silence, Yuri finally said, gently, “Viktor, it’s been three months.”

God, had it been that long already? Sometimes it felt longer. Other times, it felt like it had happened only yesterday…

“And you need to eat. Properly, this time,” Yuri continued, almost pleading now. “I can’t stand—” Yuri shook his head, as if physically dismissing the rest of his sentence, before starting over again, “Grandpa is getting worried. And… And I am too. We can’t just keep bringing you bread and water all the time!”

He did feel a little guilty that they had to do that for him. They couldn’t even cook for him, because he couldn’t eat food that other people had made. But then again, it was technically part of their job...

“Also,” Yuri cleared his throat, his tone sounding gently coaxing again, “you have a birthday to celebrate.”

“I do?”

“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be paying attention to these kinds of things?” Yuri rolled his eyes. Still the same grumpy teenager indeed, even when he was trying to be encouraging. “It’s Pretty Three’s birthday.”

Oh.

Viktor lowered his eyes, sheepish. “Oh.”

Yuri sighed, “I’ve already set up the dining table. Pretty Three is waiting.”

...Oh.

He gripped at his pillow, and murmured, “...I’m sorry, Yura.”

Yuri lifted his hand towards Viktor’s head, stopped, then shoved it into his pocket, as if that had been his intention all along. Viktor didn’t even have time to flinch. He decided not to comment on it.

“It’s okay,” Yuri said, before quietly adding, “sir.” As if to remind himself — as if to remind them  _both_ — of their positions. Despite how they acted or how they addressed each other, theirs was still a business relationship.

Viktor nodded, quick and curt.

“Thank you for your hard work, Yura. You’re dismissed.”

“Not until you get out of bed, at least,” Yuri shot back, folding his arms. “I need to make sure you don’t just go back to sleep again. For Pretty Three’s sake, if nothing else.”

Viktor wanted to glare at him, wanted to remind him just  _who_  was the boss around here, but. Well. Yuri had a point. He didn’t particularly want to get out of bed, but everything was already prepared and Pretty Three was waiting…

Viktor sighed, and pushed himself out of bed. Yuri stepped aside to let him by, but apparently forgot that he was still holding the blanket, which was now suddenly under Viktor’s foot.

He slipped on the blanket, and yelled in surprise, arms flailing as he tried to keep his balance. Yuri reached out to him on instinct, and Viktor flinched back from his reach, but it was too late—Yuri had grabbed Viktor’s hand and tugged.

“Oh shi—!” Realizing what he had done, Yuri jerked his hand away, letting Viktor land backwards onto the floor with a loud  _thump_!

Viktor yelped, wincing.

“ _Shit_! Shit shit shit—”

Ah, shit, his hand was on fire. The contact couldn’t have lasted five seconds, but it was long enough for the rash to start spreading up his arm, and it was more the feeling of the itch than the allergy itself that was making his breath quicken and his heart thud and his adrenaline spike at the thought that this could have been so much _worse_ —

Yuri stabbed a needle in his thigh, and Viktor sucked in a breath. His face scrunched up as the drugs started working through his system, and he squinted at his hand. The rash was receding now, taking the burning itch along with it, and he let out a sigh. Thank god it had only been five seconds.

He closed his eyes as he focused on his breathing, trying to reassure himself that he was still okay, that it could have been worse. It could have been so much worse.

“I’m so sorry, Viktor! I didn’t mean to—!” Yuri sobbed, and Viktor glanced at him, seeing the younger man gripping the syringe in his hand.

“Yura, the syringe,” he warned. The young blond jumped, remembering himself, and threw the syringe in its designated trash bin.

“I’m really sorry, I just reacted, I didn’t mean to touch you, I swear!”

“It’s okay, Yura,” he sighed, lifting his hand up to his face. It was like the rash had never been there. “At least it was quick.”

Yuri just nodded, though he still looked guilty. The young butler wiped at his eyes, muttering something about having to tend to the hedge maze, before getting up and leaving.

Viktor didn’t move from his spot on the floor. He always felt horrible after his allergy attacks. Even when it was just a quick brush of skin and skin, it sent him into a panic. And now, it added onto the already terrible swirl of feelings he’d had upon waking up. Why had he even bothered getting up anyway?

Oh, right. It was Pretty Three’s birthday. And Yuri had already prepared the small party.

Pretty Three was so precious to him, yet here he was, being a bad owner. Neglectful and forgetful.

After a long, long time just lying down on his bedroom floor (which was carpeted, at least), he heaved himself up. He had a birthday to celebrate.

 

The dining table was littered with heart-shaped balloons about as big as his hand, arranged around a Roomba and a three-layered cardboard cake with a plastic number one for a candle. A couple balloons declaring  _Happy Birthday!_ were tied to the arms of the seat at the head of the table.

He finished off his morning tea and set it in the sink, then took his seat at the head of the table, the balloons bouncing against each other as he moved the chair to sit. He set his elbows on the table, resting his head in his hands, and glanced past the cardboard cake, towards the Roomba.

“Good morning, Pretty,” he crooned, grinning fondly.

The Roomba didn’t respond, of course.

“Ahh, to think it’s already been a year since you came to me,” he sighed happily. “You’re so devoted and diligent, even with such a small body. I’m sorry for waking up so late... But I’m here now! Happy birthday, Pretty!”

He picked up the neatly-wrapped present at his side (which had, thankfully, gotten to him on time, even without express delivery) and, still smiling, took out the gift and presented it to the Roomba, like one would present a shiny new plaything to a baby, shaking the gift a little as if to catch the Roomba’s attention. “And look! I got you new batteries as a present! Stay with me for a long time, okay?”

He’d been wary of Pretty Three at first, but it had proven itself to be efficient, which greatly pleased him. He had two other vacuum-cleaning robots—one much older, but surprisingly still in good working condition, and the other was a problem child that had sprayed oil everywhere after its first two days. (He’d then filed a complaint to its company and demanded a refund, threatening to sue if they didn’t; which they, wisely, did.) Pretty Three may be a newer addition but was already much better than its problematic predecessor.

He petted the Roomba, crooning compliments to it as he replaced its batteries, and then set it down on the floor and switched it on. It whirred happily, or so Viktor liked to think, and proceeded to do its job.

For a moment, he looked around, expecting the sound of happy barks, before remembering himself and shaking his head. Makkachin couldn’t be here anymore; Viktor would have to celebrate for him.

Viktor cheered and clapped as the Roomba crawled on the floor.

He laughed hollowly at his own antics and dropped his hands. Pretty Three didn’t deserve such half-hearted celebrations. He’ll have to do better next year.

“I’m sorry, Pretty Three,” he said, voice soft, as if that would make up for his shortcomings.

The Roomba crawled along the floor, unaware of the slight it had been dealt, but endlessly forgiving in its ignorance.

With a sigh, Viktor looked towards the kitchen. He supposed he should make some breakfast, since he was here anyway. Nothing too complicated. A sandwich would do.

 

Viktor didn’t dare breathe. This was crucial—the final piece. He wobbled a little on the stepladder, and his heart stuttered, but he managed to regain his footing. He swallowed down a sigh of relief and clamped his lips even more firmly on the card. He straightened up.

Still steady. So far, so good.

He took the playing card from his lips and carefully leaned forward. In between two sets of carefully balanced roof-cards, there was a small space, just enough for one card to act like a bridge.

The last card.

 _This_ last card.

Gently now…  _gently…_

He dropped the card.

His breath stilled, and he waited.

The castle of cards didn’t shift or wobble.

Viktor gasped, his hands coming up to cover his mouth as a sob threatened to escape. He’d done it. Fifteen years of hard work and dedication and  _he had done it!_  He’d made a twenty-five-storey castle of cards!

“Makkachin, look! I did i—!”

He stared down the stepladder, at the floor where Makkachin would be staring at him, tail wagging as he jumped with glee at Viktor’s long-awaited success.

But, as he had to remind himself  _again_... Makkachin wasn’t here.

He quietly stepped down, careful not to hit any of the cards or the table, and moved the ladder to the side as he took out his phone. He found the best lighting and angle, and snapped a picture of the card castle. He’d show it to Papa and Mama when he next visited them. Papa would be proud. If only… If only Papa could actually see it… If only all three of them could actually see it…

A teardrop splashed on his phone screen and he blinked, suddenly aware of the blurriness in his vision. Ah, not again. He was so tired of crying.

He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, but the tears just. Wouldn’t. Stop.

_Stop._

He crumpled to the floor, pressing his face to his knees, and cried and cried and cried.

 

After taking a shower and swallowing his daily handful of pills (and then choking on them and having to repeatedly hit his back against the wall as a substitute for the Heimlich maneuver), he decided to watch a movie to distract himself. Oh! He could watch  _Love, Actually_ again. That had mostly happy stories.

Jamie and Aurelia’s story had always been his favorite. He grew up with three languages himself (Russian, Japanese, and English) but the thought of love transcending even the barrier of language was just so sweet to him.

Starry-eyed and lost in the scene, he watched the two of them kiss on-screen. He sighed, cuddling his pillow closer to his chest, entranced. What would it feel like, to kiss someone? To  _be kissed_ by someone? Would it be soft? Hard? What did lips even feel like? What did a tongue feel like?  _Taste_ like?

He licked his lips, hugging the pillow even closer, its softness touching his lips and for a moment, he imagined it was someone else. A man with warm eyes and an even warmer smile— his lips would be soft.

Viktor’s eyes fluttered close and he parted his lips and licked into the man’s mouth, hesitant but curious.

The man’s mouth tasted like cotton.

Viktor opened his eyes, freezing in place as he realized just what he was doing—and the  _object_ he was doing it with.

Snapping his mouth closed, he flung the pillow as far away from his as possible. If only he could do the same to the feeling of embarrassment gripping his chest and heating his face.

(That wasn’t the first time he’d done that, as Makkachin would have attested to.

If he were honest with himself, it probably wouldn’t be the last.)

He didn’t let his embarrassment get to him. He decided that  _nothing happened_  and nobody could claim otherwise, and since there  _wasn’t_ anyone else around, nobody ever could. Not even Makkachin would have ratted him out.

_Makkachin…_

He sighed, and grabbed another (dry and unmolested) pillow, cuddling it close in place of Makkachin’s warm fluff.

If he didn't pay attention to the movie because he was spiralling deep in his own thoughts… well, it wasn’t like anyone could berate him for it, anyway.

 

“Yakov!” Viktor forced himself to smile. It was well-worn and well-practiced, as years and years of pretending he was as okay and normal as the rest of the world had drilled into him. He needed it today, just so he could feel like he had some semblance of control over his life, even though Yakov had long since learned how to tell his fake smiles from his real ones. “What brings you here?”

“I found a new smart medical device for you,” Yakov said, sliding a small box closer to him, before taking his hat off and sitting at the other end of the outdoor table. Straight to business as always, which Viktor appreciated.

Viktor nodded and opened the box. Inside looked to be a regular smartwatch.

“It was developed in Sweden and is being beta-tested,” Yakov said. Viktor appraised the watch, before taking it out of its protective plastic bag. “It measures your heart rate and temperature, and shows your condition as a color. It is usually blue, but it will turn yellow when you’re over 100 with the early-stage rash and breathing difficulty. Orange means you’re over 1,000 with full-body rashes and closed airways. Over 2,000 and it turns red. When that happens—”

“I die of shock?” Viktor looked up from the watch.

Yakov grunted in confirmation.

“It's never been that bad, though.”

“You never know. It’s better to be safe, Vitya.”

Viktor sighed, but put the watch on. Instead of a clock face, it showed the silhouette of a human body—blue—with a number at the top—38, currently—and a mini-electrocardiograph at the bottom. He sighed again, a disgruntled edge to his voice, “What’s the point in wearing this? I barely leave the house. I can’t even date or get married.” He leveled a glare at the doctor, “I’ll have to live like a monster  _forever_.”

Yakov sighed and ignored his ( _completely justified!_ ) dramatics. “I’ll keep you updated of any new medicine. Your disease is still undiagnosed, so it might be a while.”

“You sound so unenthusiastic about it. As my doctor, shouldn’t you be pitying me and doing everything you can to find a cure?” he whined, crossing his arms and slumping against the back of his chair. The stone was cold even against the back of his sweater.

“I’ve been doing more than enough of that for 15 years!” Yakov grit out, a vein popping on his forehead.

Viktor was well aware of how annoying he could get; Yakov probably wanted to yell at him right now, but he didn’t. He never did. Papa had said that Yakov yelled a lot when he was younger, but then he’d had to tone it down after becoming a doctor. Sure, Yakov was an immunologist, but yelling at your patients still wasn’t exactly an acceptable bedside manner.

And honestly, Viktor was grateful for everything Yakov had done for him over the years. But, he had to admit, he was still a petulant child. So he continued to sulk.

He knew it wasn’t Yakov’s fault that his allergy, his  _disease_ , was so rare. In fact, it seemed like he was the  _only_ one who had it in the whole world! Which couldn’t possibly be true. What had he done in his past life to deserve a life-threatening disease on top of being alone and secluded from society?

Yakov sighed again, and his voice was a lot gentler as he asked, “How have you been, Vitya?”

Ah, here was the real reason the old doctor had visited; to check in on him.

Viktor just shrugged. He didn’t feel like lying and saying he was ‘fine,’ because clearly, he wasn’t; and it wasn’t just because of his allergy. But he didn’t feel like telling him the truth either. He didn’t want to hear any empty platitudes or pitying words right now. Especially when he could feel his eyes start to burn with unshed tears, again.

When Viktor continued to stay silent, Yakov stood up. “I’ll keep in touch. My number hasn’t changed, so call me if you find out anything new.”

Viktor just huddled wordlessly against the cold stone chair as Yakov left. Once he was sure he was alone, he let himself cry again.

It seemed like it was all he could do that day. Just like every other day.

 

* * *

 

He woke up with tears running down his cheeks and sweat clinging to his back. He could still remember wisps of his dream—whispers chasing him, shadows cornering him, hands grabbing him—and he swallowed through his dry throat, reaching up to touch the ends of his hair. Whether to assure himself it remained short or to check if it had gotten longer like in his dream, he wasn’t sure. But he always did it anyway, after that dream.

The only difference was, this time, Makkachin wasn’t there. Not to lick away his tears, not to snuggle against his side, not to offer his presence as reassurance that not  _everyone_ was out to get him.

He choked on a sob and curled on his side, the blankets wrapping around him, cocooning him.

He wished he could sleep the day away. It was too early for this.

But his phone cheerfully reminded him why he had to get up and out soon. And he wanted to cry again at his sheer bad luck.

_“limited edition shiba-wan figure out TODAY!!!_

_(call KY-san)”_

He stared at the reminder for a long moment before he eventually pushed himself out of bed. Maybe seeing the new figure would make him feel a little better.

 

At exactly 7 AM, he pulled up KY-san’s number and called.

 _“Ah, yes, hello, sir. I successfully got it for you,”_  the personal shopper said proudly as soon as the call connected.  _“Where should we meet?”_

Viktor relayed the address to where he was sat waiting in his car, at a bridge’s roadside. There weren’t be a lot of cars around at this hour, since both the road and the bridge were pretty out-of-the-way, which was just perfect for him. Not that he planned on getting out of his car, but it was better to be prepared.

_“Okay, sir. I’ll meet you there.”_

Viktor hung up, and waited. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for KY-san to arrive, but he didn’t want to be seen playing with his phone when he did. He had to look professional. Even though he technically  _did_ pay KY-san to buy him a limited edition figure of a popular Shiba Inu mascot, but with a scarf. (It was a really cute design, okay?) Still, first impressions in person were important.

He was deep into batting away another thought of  _I wish Makkachin was here_ and struggling not to cry when someone knocked lightly on his window. (KY-san sure traveled fast. Either that, or Viktor had lost track of time.) He glanced up to see a fairly average-looking Japanese man in a windbreaker and glasses, and what looked to be the box of the Shiba Inu figure under his arm.

“Um, excuse me? Poodlebot-san?” the man asked with a polite smile. “It’s KY-san.”

Viktor rolled down the backseat window. He felt it unnecessary to acknowledge his own Internet pseudonym (he liked poodles and robots, okay), since he was the only other person to be seen on the road, so  _obviously_  he was Poodlebot. Plus, he preferred getting straight to business.

He lifted the speaker mic from its cradle and spoke into it, “Put it in the backseat.”

KY-san looked a little confused, but continued to smile. “Um. I’ll need the other half of the payment first before I give this to you, Poodlebot-san.”

“I’ll double it. On one condition,” Viktor spared a glance at the box still under KY-san’s arm. “The packaging needs to be in perfect condition. Which means,” he flicked his gaze back up to the other man’s face, his eyes steely as he said, matter-of-fact, “I need to check it first.”

KY-san’s smile faltered for a brief moment, before twitching up into a (forced) polite smile again, “Well. If it’ll give you peace of mind, then alright.” The other man  _finally_ stooped slightly to set the box down in the backseat. “There’s no need to worry, though!” He sounded more sincere, pride coloring his tone as he straightened up and glanced at Viktor again. “I have full confidence in my products.”

Viktor suppressed a snort. He’d be the judge of that.

He reached back over his seat and carefully took the box into his hands. Oh, it was so cute! Shiba-wan was so  _cute_! The paint job looked so well done! (He’d have to double check it once he took the figure out of its box.) This was even cuter than the one where it was holding a candy cane in its mouth! But he mustn’t coo over it now, he had a professional image to maintain.

He took a magnifying glass from his coat pocket and scrutinized the front of the box. The sun was reflecting off the clear plastic showing a peek at the figure inside, but he could still see that it was very cute. Also, there didn’t appear to be any marks or stains on either the box or the figure—which was important, of course. He flipped the box over and looked over it closely too.

There was a stain on the box.

His eyes widened. “No…” The magnifying glass fell from his hand as he reached out to touch— no, he shouldn’t touch it, it might get worse. The stain looked like it was as big as his finger. It was a dark red too. Oh god, was it blood? That didn’t matter, it was still  _stained_! “No no no  _NO!_ ”

“...Poodlebot-san?” KY-san’s voice sounded even more muffled and distant than before, but he didn’t care, because this was  _limited edition_ and it was  _ruined_!

“The box is stained,” he managed to say, somehow. His voice sounded small even to his own ears. “And there’s no way I’ll be able to get this figure again…”

“Oh. Well. You see, the box was completely fine while  _I_ had it,” KY-san said, voice tight. Viktor didn’t like the sound of it. “And it seems the stain  _suddenly appeared_ as soon as you took it.  _Sir._ ”

Viktor whipped towards the other man (as much as he could with his seatbelt across his chest), his blue eyes practically spitting fire even through the coldness of his expression. Jaw tight, he grit out, “Are you  _accusing me_ of putting a  _ketchup stain_ ,” he gestured to the the box, “on this box while I was inside my  _completely clean car_?” He paused, just as meaningfully as the other had, “KY _-san_?”

Here, the other man looked reluctant. Finally, he was starting to see sense! “Well… That still doesn’t explain how it got…” KY-san paused, and stared off into the distance. “Ah.”

Viktor held in a smug smile.

KY-san’s shoulders hunched up and he shifted on his feet.  _Checkmate._ “I… may have… bumped into someone earlier…” He offered a small, apologetic smile. He was playing with his fingers, nervous. Guilty.

“Well. That’s unfortunate,” Viktor said evenly. He took a breath and smiled a cold, cold smile at the other man. “Since it was an accident, it’s alright. But, see, after _being accused of scamming_ , which I would definitely _never_ do,” he rolled down his window by an inch, just enough so the other man could see the cold fury in his eyes, even despite his smiling face, “I don’t feel like giving you the other half of the payment anymore.”

KY-san just stood there and stared. Stupidly.

Viktor rolled his window back up and took the car out of park as he waved at KY-san through the window with a cheerful, “Well, goodbye! I won’t be using your services again, KY-san,” before driving away.

Before he could get much farther, he glanced at the other man through the side mirror. KY-san was still standing there, watching him drive away.

Viktor clicked his tongue, disappointed. The forums had sung KY-san’s praises so much, he’d expected better from the shopper. He at least expected to be treated with some modicum of respect. Hadn’t the other man heard of the phrase “the customer is always right?” The man hadn’t even checked to see if the package really  _was_  in perfect condition before giving it to him!

So rude. And unprofessional too!

He would have to leave a review on the forum, so that others would at least be forewarned, unlike him.

But first, he’d have to put the new figure in a glass case. The version with the candy cane was currently the one on display, so he’d have to shelve that one instead.

(It was still a cute figure; it was just that this new one with the scarf was much cuter. And even though he would love to display  _all_ of his Shiba-wan figures in glass cases, he only had so much space in his living room…)

After he’d left a review on KY-san, maybe he could watch another movie. Maybe  _Hachiko_? No, no, he wanted to distract himself, not torture himself. Maybe a romance movie. Like...  _A Walk to Remember_?

Yeah. That sounded like a good plan. He could still cry and grieve, but just not at his dog, again. Maybe diverting his sorrows to fictional characters and a bittersweet love story could make him feel somewhat better, since seeing the new figure didn’t.

 

_CRASH._

Viktor choked on a yell and fell to the floor with a loud  _thump_ —

“ _Owww_ ,” he hissed, elbow tingling unpleasantly.

But now was not the time for that! Someone… Someone was in the house!

(A robber? A  _ghost_?!)

Heart pounding in his ears, he grabbed the nearest thing—(no, not his pillow)—that he could possibly use as a weapon—aha! His shoe. Perfect.

(But how did a robber even get inside? Shouldn’t Yura be monitoring the gates or something? This was  _not_ how he’d wanted his first house guest experience to go!)

Clutching his shoe in his hands, he peeked over the top of the L-shaped couch. The crash seemed to have come from the living room, which was just outside the door… But it didn’t  _look_ like there was anybody moving about.

Maybe he should call out? No, that was stupid, that was how you got killed in horror movies! Plus, if it was a robber, they might have a gun!

He’d survived too long to die by some stupid bullet!

Cautious and very much spooked, but fueled by righteous fury in the face of death, he crept out of the room and poked his head out into the living room. Seeing no signs of other life, he took a few wary steps further.

...Still no one. Were they hiding? Had they already gone into one of the rooms?

“Ah.”

He stared at the shards of broken glass on his living room floor. At least none of his display cases had been broken. Though, something seemed to have fallen— Wait, no. That was a drone in the middle of the broken glass. He didn’t own a drone.

Wary, but curious, he stepped towards the drone, looking around the house for any other signs of life. But it looked like it was just the drone that had broken in. Shoe still gripped in his hands, he poked the drone with the tip of his shoe.

The drone was unresponsive. Which either meant that its owner had decided not to make it respond, or they had intentionally left the drone.

Viktor then realized it had a small pouch and a note attached to one of its legs.

 _‘Unabara Shipbuilding, Santa Maria Research Team,’_ it read.

Wasn’t Unabara that company he’d just taken over and was going to sell?

...Were they trying to appeal to him?

He wanted to scoff at the idea; the shipbuilding company was pretty insignificant according to their files. Plus, it would be too late now, since the board meeting for the finalization of sales, among other things, was scheduled today. But…

Viktor loved surprises. It was a point of pride for him, who had once been considered insignificant and unhelpful to his company, to have risen up and become an invaluable asset to it. He loved the feeling of subverting and exceeding expectations. Predictability was boring.

Perhaps Unabara Shipbuilding had something in store for him. This  _was_ one of the most surprising things he’d gotten all week (that stain on the limited edition Shiba Inu box didn’t count; that wasn’t a surprise, that was a horrifying tragedy), and Viktor, despite the initial shock and terror, was curious.

He poked the drone one more time, just in case, and when it still didn’t respond, he inspected the pouch. Inside the pouch was a flash drive, and nothing else.

He turned the flash drive in his hands, but that was all it was— or what it  _looked_ like it was: an ordinary flash drive.

Well, he’d gotten this far. He might as well take a look.

 

The drive contained a video file. And nothing else.

Interesting...

He put his feet up on the desk, leaning back against his swivel chair, and switched on the widescreen monitor mounted on his wall. He played the video, and was immediately greeted with someone playing what looked to be tennis—

 _“KATSU3 is playing squash,”_ a voice said from behind the camera.

—Okay, squash then. The person playing looked pretty unassuming. They were bald and wore a tank top, calf-high yoga pants, and sneakers. They also seemed to have prosthetic limbs—their visible arms and legs shone silver against the dim backlight of the room. The room itself was bare, and only had a sliver of light shining behind the person at chest-height.

Viktor was bored already.

 _“It has a superior mind that can trace moving objects and calculate trajectories,”_ the voice continued. _“It is also able to react fast enough to hit the moving ball.”_

 _“Doctor, isn’t it too dark?”_ another, much younger-sounding voice asked quietly behind the camera. Meanwhile, the person—‘Katsu Three’ or something—continued to play.

_“Okay.”_

Viktor suppressed a yawn.

The ball in the video hit the camera, and Viktor almost fell off his chair. He cursed under his breath. Honestly, what was with all the jumpscares today? He’d been watching a perfectly good Nicholas Sparks movie before this! He  _stopped watching_ a Nicholas Sparks movie for this!

 _“Ow,”_ the first voice groaned.

 _“Phichit! I-I mean, doctor! Oh no, are you okay?”_ the second voice cried out, high-pitched and worried.

A pair of legs stepped into the screen, sneakers thumping loudly against the concrete floor, metal rods and wires visible behind the strips of skin of its legs— Wait, what?

 _“Are you okay, master?”_ a gentle voice asked.

 _“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,”_ the first voice—Dr. Phichit—said, as the camera wobbled slightly and raised up, focusing on the face of the person playing squash earlier.

Viktor carefully sat up in his chair. It wasn’t a person. “A robot?”

 _“Can you continue filming?”_ Dr. Phichit asked.

 _“Yeah, okay,”_ the younger voice said, still sounding a bit shaken. The camera wobbled again—probably from being passed to the other—and finally righted itself, with the robot standing a bit to the left.

Like its legs, metal rods and wires were visible on its arms and head. Its face and shoulders were the only things that looked human, which included actually having skin. The robot was… pretty cute, he supposed, with its brown doe-eyes and pink lips. The robot stared placidly at the camera, hands clasped in front of his stomach with the racket still in one hand. It was a decidedly formal posture, but the look in its face was very warm and open. Or maybe Viktor was just projecting.

Someone walked into frame and stepped up beside the robot, the white of a labcoat stark against the relatively dark wall. The first thing Viktor noticed was how on point the man’s eyeliner was. The second was how young he looked. He looked like he was in his early twenties, at most!

The young man grinned at the camera, and bowed politely.  _“Hello, Mr. Nikiforov. I am Doctor Phichit Chulanont. Nice to meet you,”_ he said in slightly accented English. It sounded Thai, or maybe it was Vietnamese...?

Viktor frowned, and shifted in his seat. “Does he know me?” he mumbled, racking his brain. He couldn’t remember a Dr. Phichit Chulanont. And he always took note of anyone of importance, or at least seemed interesting. Also, ‘doctor?’ But he looked so young!

 _“I’d like to invite you to a demonstration of KATSU3, an android robot,”_ Dr. Chulanont gestured to the robot at his side, which had barely moved, but shifted a little every so often, like a  _human_  would,  _“that will shock the world.”_

Viktor tapped a finger to his lips, intrigued.

 _“Why, you may ask?”_ Dr. Chulanont brought up a clipboard, and the camera zoomed in on the piece of paper clipped onto it.  _“According to this contract, you are the new owner of KATSU3.”_ The camera zoomed out and Dr. Chulanont’s grin widened, setting the contract down and out of frame.  _“Please come to the time and address on the note, and give us the yet-unpaid 5 billion yen out of the 10 billion we were promised.”_

Wait, what? Promised? Ten billion yen? What? Since  _when_? Viktor had never even heard about this until today!

_“In three seconds, this flash drive will explode…”_

Viktor yelped and dove for the floor, covering his head.

 _“...Or not.”_ Dr. Chulanont chuckled. Viktor raised his head and glared at the younger man’s smiling face.  _“Were you surprised?”_

Oh, ha ha, was it because he loved surprises? How much did this Dr. Chulanont even know about him? And what was with that contract?

Grumbling, he sat in his chair again, swiveling to face the widescreen monitor with a disgruntled pout.

 _“If you see KATSU3 in person, you will be much more shocked than that,”_ Dr. Chulanont continued, as if he hadn’t just given Viktor a mini-heart attack. The camera had both the young doctor and the robot in frame again.  _“KATSU3, the android that will shock the world,”_ here, he gestured again to the robot at his side before gesturing towards the camera,  _“awaits his new owner.”_ With a self-satisfied smile, Dr. Chulanont gave a small bow.  _“Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”_

The video ended there.

Viktor stared at the black screen, finger still pressed thoughtfully against his lips. “I’m that robot’s… new owner?”

Frowning, he turned off the wall monitor and turned to the one on the desk instead. When in doubt, Google it.

The first few results for ‘Dr. Phichit Chulanont’ were articles about a scandal in MIT.  _‘The fall of a genius,’_ one had dubbed it. Apparently, Dr. Chulanont was a young prodigy specializing in robotics, and had managed to form a small team of other young geniuses. He was once named as one of the Top 10 Scientists of the Year, and aspired to revolutionize the world with AI and make robots a household staple. But at the young age of 21 (he was  _so young_!), he had already taken a fall: he’d been found plagiarizing another engineer’s work.

Viktor scoffed, “What does he take me for?”

The young doctor should have known Viktor would have looked for information on him, and that he would have been undoubtedly wary.

But then… Wasn’t this from Unabara Shipbuilding? Which was supposed to be a company that made  _ships_? Why was it making a robot? A very  _humanoid_ robot, at that? And why wasn’t this particular (and  _very important_!!) information in their files?

Tapping a finger to his lips, he pulled up the company’s file again, just to see if he’d overlooked anything. Just as he’d thought, there was no mention of robots.

Interesting.

...Maybe he  _would_  check out this “revolutionary” android.

(Later, he realized that he hadn’t thought of Makkachin  _or_ cried since hearing the crash, and counted it as a win.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **edit 2 sept 2018:** toned down viktor's allergy reaction; it was supposed to be pretty mild - just the rash, really - so I cut it down and edited that part of the chapter.
> 
>  **edit 4 sept 2018:** added a line in between viktor's dialogue, here (added line in bold): “Since it was an accident, it’s alright. But, see, after being accused of scamming, which I would definitely never do,” **he rolled down his window by an inch, just enough so the other man could see the cold fury in his eyes, even despite his smiling face,** “I don’t feel like giving you the other half of the payment anymore.”
> 
> trust me, it's an important addition.
> 
> i decided to split it up because 10k words is just too many words to make consistently, plus it reaaally lessens my motivation to write the next chapter, so if this fic really does get to 20+ chapters, i'll just have to grit my teeth and bear it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS IS JUST THE SPLIT-OFF PART OF CHAPTER ONE. I added a line in the second-to-last paragraph, though.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (and yes, i did rename bold group to gold group. because gold medal reference, duh.)
> 
> i decided to split it up because 10k words is just too many words to make consistently, plus it reaaally lessens my motivation to write the next chapter, so if this fic really does get to 20+ chapters, i'll just have to grit my teeth and bear it.

The Unabara Shipbuilding company was stationed in a less well-off part of Tokyo City. It was all they could afford, which Viktor wouldn’t really blame them for. Still, it showed just how little benefits VN Financial could gain from the company.

He peered out the windshield, checking the sign on the warehouse doors that read, ‘ _Santa Maria Research_.’ Dr. Chulanont’s team of young scientific geniuses.

Viktor sighed, and tugged on his black leather gloves. He wouldn’t need his face mask for this; he’d already contacted them beforehand, stating that there  _must not_ be any other visible humans in the building if he were to agree to a visit. But he’d still need his trusty baton, of course. Even without any other humans there, he’d still like to refrain from actually touching anything.

He stepped out of the car, contemplated his life decisions that led to this moment (where he, the greatest asset to one of Japan’s largest financial companies, willingly let himself be lured into a suspicious warehouse in the middle of basically nowhere, on account of seeing a supposed breakthrough for robotics and science in general), before flicking his baton open to its full length and walking over to the door.

He took a deep breath and he carefully knocked his baton against the door, the sound of hard plastic tapping on metal loud in the empty alleyway.

_Screeee._

Viktor flinched, backing away from the suddenly open door. Didn’t he say nobody was supposed to be seen and/or present in the vicinity? He peered around the door, ready to glare at whoever had opened it and— oh.

He blinked. An automatic metal door?

...Okay. Interesting.

With only a little hesitance, he stepped inside. The hallway was dark, save for a couple of lights on the wall. Horror movies have trained him to be wary of these kinds of hallways, so he raised his baton like a Harry Potter wand, just in case—

_SLAM!_

“Ohmygod!” He whirled around, clutching at his chest. Oh, it was just the door. The automatic door. Which closed automatically behind him. Of course.

He let out a breath, his heart still panicking inside his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t be thinking about horror movies right now. He was supposed to be on business, after all.

_Whirrrrr._

Oh, what  _now_?

He tensed, raising his baton again. The sound was coming from the other end of the hallway, from a… A little… computer-shaped robot. Well, its  _face_  was like a small computer monitor, at least. But that was all it had, aside from a set of wheels like one would see on a tank.

It also had a little smiling face on its screen.

Viktor wasn’t sure whether to coo at it or to stay on guard, because what if the company had made a killer robot or something so he wouldn’t go through with selling them off? Not that it would do any good, since there was already an interested buyer. But still, who knows what they could’ve put into something this size?

Granted, it was small—reaching up to the middle of his calves, actually—but that didn’t mean it wasn’t deadly!

A panel opened at its side, and Viktor sucked in a gasp, waiting—

A little arm folded out, stretching its fingers, before giving him a little wave. The face on its screen changed into a smiling face but with its “eyes” in the form of two chevron arrows pointed upwards.

Oh my god it was so cute.

No, no, focus, Viktor, this wasn’t part of the agreement!

Sighing (and it was definitely because of how exasperated he was,  _not_ because of how cute the little boxy robot was), he pulled out his phone and called Dr. Chulanont.

“ _Yes, Director Nikiforov?”_

“What is this?”

_“Pardon?”_

“This,” Viktor gestured towards the boxy robot with his baton, even though Dr. Chulanont couldn’t see it. “Didn’t I tell you to get rid of everyone? I just want to see KATSU3. Nothing else.”

_“Oh! Don’t worry, sir, that’s just BEETLE. He’ll lead you to KATSU3.”_

“...I’m… supposed to follow this thing?” He glanced back at the little robot, which, upon hearing him, put on a cute little face comprised of three circles—two black ones for its eyes and one smaller, unfilled one for its mouth—and pointed with its thumb towards the hallway.

_“Yes, sir! You can trust BEETLE.”_

Well, then.

With a sigh, he hung up on Dr. Chulanont and nodded at ‘BEETLE.’ The little robot, expression unchanging, refolded its arm back into its side panel, turned around, and rolled down the hallway. Viktor carefully followed suit, baton still held aloft.

As he stepped further down the hall, he could see some rooms (or would it be more accurate to call them alcoves? They were pretty small, after all) containing machinery and robot parts. He stared at them, awed and curious, until BEETLE had to call him over with a (really, really cute!) little whistle sound and some more whirring.

Eventually, he was led to a room much larger than the ones he’d passed. Aside from the screens of various computers and other machines, the only other source of lighting was a blue spotlight near the front of the room, where Viktor stood.

And there were those horror movie vibes again...

He shifted on his feet, slowly turning his back to the wall so nothing could sneak up on him, and raised his baton higher, gripping it with both hands this time as he looked around the room.

“Hello?” he said, in English, just in case. “Is… Is anyone there?”

He kind of understood now why horror movie protagonists always called out into a dark room first. It was a precaution, a test. Because depending on if anything answered, they could either run away or proceed with caution.

He took another look around the room, but nothing seemed to be moving. Even BEETLE had retreated to a corner, now silent.

“Are you Mr. Viktor Nikiforov?”

Viktor jumped, a yelp halfway out of his mouth before he clamped his hand over it.

Bright blue light shone from the middle of the room and he reflexively turned away a bit, shielding his eyes with his free hand. The light receded, and the whole room was finally illuminated. A few desks topped with computers were at the sides of the room, near the alcoves, with big thick wires snaking along the floor. Three monitors, which relayed information he was too far away to see, hung atop a chair in the middle of the room. The chair itself was apparently the source of the new light, perched on a slightly elevated platform that also had strips of light on its short walkway. Someone was seated in the chair.

The person stood up and walked towards him.

Startled, Viktor took a few steps back and raised his baton threateningly (he hoped) towards the approaching stranger, who didn’t seem fazed and just kept walking towards him.

“S-stay where you are!” he yelped, almost tripping over a wire, but refused to tear his eyes away from the other, who finally stopped walking once within reach of his baton.

The stranger was a fairly average-looking Japanese man, just a couple inches shorter than him, with slicked-back black hair, brown doe-eyes, and a placid smile. He was pretty cute he supposed, but his outfit… The man was wearing what looked to be a dark blue suit with mesh (for some reason) cutting strips of Vs at his waistline, and a deep v-necked shirt that exposed his collarbones.

Who the hell made this man’s suit? There were even _sequins_ at the mesh part! There was a _mesh_ part! Was the company having a costume party or something before he’d arrived?

“No information is available,” the man said, his English tinged heavily with his accent, but still easily understandable. “Are you Mr. Viktor Nikiforov?”

Viktor’s grip tightened on his baton. “How… How do you know who I am?” His voice didn’t waver, at least (save for that small stutter at the beginning).

The man’s smile widened,  “Nice to meet you.” He stepped forward again, raising his hand, “Let’s shake hands.”

Viktor yelped, jumping away from the stranger and his outstretched hand. The man continued to smile at him, not dropping his hand. Viktor cleared his throat and straightened his back. Good lord, that had caught him off-guard. People usually knew his reputation enough not to suddenly stick themselves or any parts of their body near him.

He glared at the other man, and raised his baton right at the man’s face. “Don’t. Don’t come near me.” He pointed the baton towards one corner of the room, “Go to the side of the room.”

The other man tilted his head, his eyes big and innocent like a child’s. What a strange man.

“Go. To the side. Of the room,” Viktor grit out, hand shaking. Dammit, he can’t start panicking now! He glanced around the room again. “Hello? Anyone?” he called out, first in English, then again in Japanese, just in case. But nobody answered. He cursed, softly and in Russian (he didn’t want to offend the weird-suited stranger).

“Do you not want to shake hands?” the stranger asked.

Viktor stared at him pointedly.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be careful next time.” The man ducked his head in a small apologetic bow, his eyes soft and remorseful, as his lips pulled down in a sad frown.

Viktor sighed, his baton raised between them again, forcibly keeping the other man at a distance. His hand was still shaking. “I  _said_ no humans!” he yelled into the otherwise empty room. Such a simple condition couldn’t even be followed!

“Do I look human?”

The Japanese man in the weird suit was smiling at him again. Viktor frowned at him, distressed and confused.

“Dr. Chulanont said that the more you think I’m human, the better I’m doing.” The man’s smile widened. “Thank you.”

Viktor blinked at him.  _What?_

“However, I am not human.”

“...What?”

“I am KATSU3, an android robot made by Dr. Chulanont and the rest of the Santa Maria Research Team.”

Viktor stared at the other man. Come to think of it, his face  _did_ look similar to that of the robot’s in the video sent by the research team...

Slowly, he lowered his baton. Just to get a better look at the other man’s— at ‘KATSU3’s’ face.

“You’re… a robot?” he asked, still not sure if he could believe his ears.

“That’s right,” KATSU3 said simply.

Viktor kept staring. It’s just… He looked so… well.  _Human._

“Dr. Chulanont said you’d like me. Do you like me?” The man— no, the robot tilted his— its(?) head and smiled, batting its eyes. Like a human...

Viktor laughed, humorlessly, before leveling an unimpressed glare at the other  _human man_. “Don’t joke with me. You’re  _obviously_  just pretending to be a robot.” Viktor scoffed, “Do you think I don’t know the difference?”

‘KATSU3’ was smiling that calm smile again, and started unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“ _Ohmygod_!” Viktor yelped, because  _what the hell! “_ Wh-what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’ll make you believe that I’m a robot,” ‘KATSU3’ said, as calmly as he’d been from the start, with that smile still on his face, and then slid his jacket off and onto the floor. Then he unbuttoned his pants.

“ _OHMYGOD_ ,” Viktor whirled around and covered his eyes with his hands, because even if this weird Japanese man was going to be an exhibitionist, Viktor  _did not_ want to bear witness to that, nope! “PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON! ARE YOU SOME KIND OF PERVERT?”

There was the sound of pants falling to the floor and something—possibly a shirt oh my  _god_ —being pulled off and also discarded on the floor, and, yeah, this guy was definitely a pervert,  _what the hell_.

“IS THIS SOME KIND OF PRANK? DID DR. CHULANONT PUT YOU UP TO THIS OR WHAT?” he screeched, for lack of anything else to do, because it didn’t sound like that other man was interested in putting his clothes back on any time soon.

_Whirrrrrrrr._

“BEETLE, IS THAT YOU? MAKE THIS PERVERT PUT HIS CLOTHES BACK ON!”

“Mr. Nikiforov?” the pervert said.

“ARE YOU DECENT?”

Slowly, cautiously, Viktor chanced a glanced over his shoulder, peeking through his fingers. His eyes widened.

“Oh…”

The… pervert(?)’s torso was comprised of what looked to be a metallic corset-suit that reached from the top of his pectorals to the middle of his thighs. A panel was open at his stomach (which was probably what had caused the whirring sound), revealing what looked to be a battery and a fan.

Viktor turned around to face the other man— no,  _the robot_ , and took a cautious step forward, baton extended. He glanced at the man’s— the robot’s face, before tapping it lightly at the side.

_Tink._

...That sounded very metallic.

The robot—and it surely  _was_ a robot, since it didn’t even flinch.

Viktor tapped its other side.

_Tink, tink._

The robot continued to gaze at him with that calm smile, seemingly unaffected from the contact. Because it couldn’t feel it.

Oh my god.

“You’re really… a robot…” he breathed, still not quite sure he could believe it, but well, the evidence was all there right in front of him. What sort of human had a  _battery_ in their stomach?

...Wait. If this was a robot, and not a human… Could this possibly mean…

He glanced at his hand, then back at the robot. He withdrew his baton and hastily took off his glove, because if his theory was correct,  _if this could really be an exception_ —!

He swallowed, and slowly, ever so slowly, extended his pointer finger towards the robot, his arm reaching out towards its face.

The robot glanced at his hand, at his extended finger, before tilting its head and touching the tip of his finger with its own.

KATSU3 glanced up at Viktor with a childlike grin. “E.T.?” it asked, slow and cautious. Like a  _human_  would when confused and uncertain but at the same time giddy and curious.

_Like a human_ —

Viktor gasped and jumped back, staring at his hand. He pulled back the sleeve of his jacket—the biowatch’s display was blue.

“But… you’re… he’s—” Viktor swallowed. “He’s just like a  _human_  but nothing… happened,” he murmured, a tremor in voice and it sounded a little bit like… hope?

He glanced at KATSU3. The android seemed to take his expression as a prompt to start explaining himself—  _it_ self.

“I run automatically on a battery placed in my abdomen. I run for three hours after I’m fully charged,” KATSU3 informed him, then held up its arms. “My structure is similar to human joints. Each of my arms holds 30 kilograms of weight, and my legs hold 60 kilograms each,” it gestured to its legs, before pointing to its nose, “I can detect various smells with a sensory device. I can recognize objects with a sense of touch. I have 20 functions including understanding stocks, accounting, and foreign languages.” KATSU3 grinned, bright and toothy, and how was it not  _human_? “Please use me as you please.”

 

The lights of the makeshift laboratory flickered, and Viktor glanced around warily, thoughts of ghosts and demons and other horror movie villains worming its way into the forefront of his mind.

“We didn’t get extra funding, so we couldn’t pay the electricity bills,” Chulanont explained. “We typically use electricity from a nearby factory, but it went bankrupt today.”

Viktor returned his gaze to the young doctor (and he really  _was_  so young!) seated across from him at the small table. Just after his discovery that he could  _actually touch_ KATSU3, the young doctor and his team of three other people emerged from one of the alcoves and introduced themselves. Chulanont had then sat him down at one of the tables with the least amount of clutter, presented him with a handful of papers about KATSU3 and the Santa Maria team, as well as the contract for KASTU3, before taking a seat at the other end of the table. KATSU3 stood beside the young doctor, its gaze on Viktor. So far, he was impressed with the robot, but he wasn’t going to tell the doctor that easily.

Early on, Viktor had tried to take a jab at Chulanont’s notoriety and been met with coldness through a tight smile. Obviously, it was a sensitive subject, but he’d wanted to make it known that he knew about the doctor’s reputation. Though it seemed there was more to the story than the media let out... But that was a can of worms he decided not to delve any further into.

Viktor looked down at the bundle of papers in his hand again. “Is there anything more I should know?”

Chulanont seemed to straighten up at this, grinning proudly, “Our team, Santa Maria—”

“I meant, about KATSU3,” Viktor cut in, raising a brow at the other man.

Chulanont paused, grin frozen on his face, before he pressed his lips together into a polite smile. “Of course.” The younger man turned to the robot standing at his side, “KATSU3.”

KATSU3 glanced at Chulanont, smile as placid as ever.

Chulanont scrunched his face into a displeased frown. “How do I feel right now?”

KATSU3 stared at the young doctor for a moment, before declaring, “You’re angry.” Then the robot ducked its head, brows furrowing in remorse, “I’m sorry. Did I did something wrong, doctor?”

Chulanont smiled brightly at the robot, chuckling. “No, I’m not angry, don’t worry. That was just a demonstration to Director Nikiforov of your abilities.”

KATSU3 returned the doctor’s smile. “I’m glad you aren’t angry.”

“This is KATSU3’s main skill,” the doctor said, turning back towards Viktor. “KATSU3 went through deep learning, which is an essential process for AI. He can read facial expressions and feel emotions.” The doctor’s smile turned proud, “I guarantee it. Soon, we’ll live in a time where we train robots.”

“Train robots, hmm?” Viktor glanced at the aforementioned android. “Is it like training dogs?”

“I’ve never had a dog, but I’ve had hamsters,” the other man said, eyes sparkling at the mention of his pets, before he chuckled good-naturedly. “But KATSU3 is supposed to be like a human, so while I use the word ‘train,’ I mean it in the sense of how people learn each other’s mannerisms and whatnot. It’s like gaining a friend. Except it’s basically a computer that looks human.”

“So, like a dog?”

“...Sure, it’s like training a really smart dog.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

“Sir,” KATSU3 cut in, smiling at Viktor, “do you want to hear a joke?”

Viktor stared at the robot, perplexed. “...What?”

“What did the buffalo say when his son went to college?” KATSU3 went on, unperturbed.

Viktor raised an eyebrow.

KATSU3 raised a finger, and delivered the punchline: “Bison.” And then it laughed monotonously.

Viktor continued to stare. KATSU3 continued to smile at him.

He glanced at Chulanont, whose smile looked tight and contrite and like he was regretting every decision he had ever made, and Viktor  _laughed._

“You just laughed,” KATSU3 observed. “My sense of humor made you laugh.”

Smirking, Viktor gestured towards the android that was the Santa Maria team’s pride and joy, “Is this his main skill that you spoke of?”

Chulanont cleared his throat. “We’re still working on his sense of humor. However, KATSU3 needs a month of deep-learning per person, so he doesn’t know yet that your laugh was not genuine. He must accumulate enough information to understand—”

“Tomorrow,” Viktor declared, raising his chin slightly, his tone brokering no arguments, “I’ll check if his skills work. Send KATSU3 to my house tomorrow so that I can test him out. We’ll discuss additional funding later.”

Chulanont glanced at KATSU3, before nodding.

“Good.” Viktor stood up, smirking at the surprise that flashed briefly on the young doctor’s face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment. I shall text you the details for tomorrow’s test run. Don’t be late.”

 

Nishigori picked up on the second ring, her voice carrying a hint of surprise through his phone’s speakers.

_“Yes, hello, sir?”_

“I’ll join the meeting now,” he said, eyes fixed on the road before him. “Get ready.”

_“...Pardon?”_

Viktor hung up, and kept driving.

 

VN Financial’s building stood proud against the blue afternoon sky. The parking lot was empty (good), and so was the lobby (also good) and the halls leading to the boardroom (very good—)

Oh. Never mind.

One of the workers just exited the bathroom. Clearly, he didn’t hear about Viktor’s arrival, since the man stared at Viktor liked he’d just seen a ghost. Viktor leveled his cold, expectant gaze at the employee, and raised his baton, gesturing the other man back inside the bathroom. The office worker nodded, bowing quickly at the waist, before retreating back inside the bathroom.

Viktor pulled his phone out and called Nishigori. She picked up in the middle of the second ring this time. “Reduce the pay of that employee,” he informed her swiftly, before hanging up.

At least the boardroom itself had all the seats empty at the side of the room nearest the doors, like it _should_ be upon being alerted of his arrival. The board of directors, who were all situated at the other half of the room, bowed to him, and he politely returned the gesture.

“Oh, please do continue,” he said, his smile all teeth and perfect, before taking a seat near the head of the table, where the CEO sat. Viktor could feel Georgi’s stare boring through the side of his head, but he didn’t even spare a glance at the other man.

The speaker (Viktor forgot his name; he’ll have to ask Nishigori later) standing at the podium at the front of the room continued his presentation. “In two days, we will sign an agreement to sell the R&D team to the Gold Group from the UK,” the man said. “That will happen, as planned, in the main conference room. This deal will continue the division and sale of Unabara Shipbuilding.” The man clicked to the last slide, ending his report. “Thank you.”

Everyone in the room clapped politely. Viktor raised his hand.

“Ah. Yes, director?” the man at the podium asked, posture tense but trying to sound calm.

“There’s something I don’t know much about. What does Unabara Shipbuilding’s R&D team research, exactly?”

“Ah… I believe they research technology to build ships, sir.”

Viktor, recalling how he’d just  _met_ the aforementioned team (though they were known by a different name), chuckled. “I see.” Viktor leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms, as he smiled to himself, “There’s something I  _really_ don’t know, though… The Santa Maria team... What are their accomplishments?”

“I… don’t believe they have anything noteworthy, sir.”

Like a very much human-like android that can supposedly empathize with humans?

What a very strange, very  _serious_ , assertion.

Viktor leveled the man with a no-nonsense gaze, “You’d better take responsibility for that.”

“...Pardon?”

 

Viktor heaved a sigh and leaned his full weight on the swivel chair. It was just him and Georgi left in the boardroom. He’d decided not to leave yet, since the other man had blatantly wanted to speak with him, what with all his staring.

Georgi broke the silence first, voice very carefully flat, “You’re acting out of character.”

Viktor chuckled. “Isn’t that my specialty? Surprising people?”

“I’m in charge of selling Unabara Shipbuilding,” Georgi grit out, jaw tightening. “You’re messing up the order—”

“You,” Viktor pointed his baton at Georgi, “are the chairman.” Then he pointed at himself, smirking, “Me? The head of the board of directors. I keep the company going, and I earn 70% of VN Financial’s profits.” He tilted his head towards Georgi, eyes cold and voice low, “Is there still a problem in the order and hierarchy?”

Georgi sighed, and pressed his eyes shut tight, as if resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “What is it? If you want to say someth—”

“Not right now,” Viktor waved his hand dismissively, turning away from Georgi as he looked around the room and tapped a finger to his lips. “But I might have something to say later on. Until then,” he returned his gaze to the other man, and smirked, “keep doing what you were doing. Whatever it was.”

Georgi looked at him, a myriad of emotions conflicting on his face—anger, hurt, resentment, confusion—and Viktor chuckled, hopping to his feet.

“Well, goodbye!” He waved jauntily over his shoulder before turning to leave.

But, just as he reached the door, he took one last glance at Georgi and saw the other man rubbing at his eyes, like he always did whenever he was stressed. Viktor suppressed another chuckle at the sight; winding Georgi up always left him in a good mood.

 

Dr. Chulanont called him that night, just as he was enjoying post-dinner tea.

“What is it?” Viktor asked.

_“Director Nikiforov, I’d like you to give me two more days to test out KATSU3.”_

“Hmm, I don’t think that would work, doctor.  You see, Unabara Shipbuilding’s R&D team, including Santa Maria, will be sold to the UK’s Gold Group in two days’ time. We only have tomorrow to test him out.”

Dr. Chulanont was silent on the other end of the line.

“Dr. Chulanont?” he asked mildly, sipping his tea.

_“And you didn’t tell us this earlier because…?”_

“Oh!” Viktor laughed to himself. “I forgot about it, sorry.”

Dr. Chulanont went silent again.

He was probably struggling not to yell at him. People often did whenever Viktor forgot something important.

Viktor continued to sip his tea.

Then, the young doctor said, tone carefully polite, _“...I understand, Director.”_

“Good! I’ll be expecting KATSU3 tomorrow, then!” Viktor hung up before the other could respond.

In his defense, it’s not like Viktor purposefully forgot to tell them! He honestly did forget! Plus, he first wanted to find out for himself if the board members knew anything that wasn’t in the files. And it turned out, they didn’t. Or at least, they didn’t seem to.

It was still fishy, though. So he’d sent Madame B an email asking for files about Unabara Shipbuilding’s late chairman. Then again, considering Dr. Chulanont’s reputation, he could understand the need for secrecy, especially for a marvel like KATSU3.

He’d have to reign in his excitement for tomorrow, though. He couldn’t let his bias color his judgment for the android’s test run. But, he could already tell, that KATSU3 would definitely surprise him in the most amazing ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is still in progress. i know it's been 5 months since i made this, but a lot of irl stuff has been kickin me around, plus getting back into several of my older fandoms has grabbed most of my attention the past months. i got remotivated to continue this though! but i won't be making any promises on when i'll update. but it'll probably be soon. fingers crossed! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey! i didn't take five months to update, this time! :'D it's still later than i planned, originally, but hey, it's here. and a bit longer than 5k words but eh. this one's in yuuri's pov, i hope i got him and the whole sta. maria team characterized ok. i can't remember yuuri ever being angry at someone in-canon but i'd imagine he would be the type to keep it to himself, unless gently prodded. a lot.

“And then he said he won’t be contacting me again for another job. Which I could understand, you know, especially since it was such a bad first impression, but he said it with this… this plastic smile, like it some sort of _privilege_ that I got to work for him or something,” he grumbled. “And when he said that, he even rolled down his window—just the tiniest bit, you know, so he could look me in the eyes. Like an _asshole_ ,” Yuuri huffed and crossed his arms, brows pinched together in frustration.

“Wow. Thank _god_ you won’t be getting another job from him, then. Good riddance! Ha!” Takeshi laughed wryly as he poured Yuuri another cup of tea.

Yuuri sighed. “Thanks, Nishigori.” He lifted his cup and took a sip.

After the job with Poodlebot fell through and the blue-eyed man (gorgeous, from what he could see, but his looks were far outclassed by his attitude) drove off in a smiley-faced huff, Yuuri got so pissed that he fumbled with his apartment keys five times. Because who did that guy think he was with his high-and-mighty attitude? God, just thinking about it again made Yuuri grind his teeth.

The Nishigori couple had been in the doorway of their own apartment, where Takeshi had just been seeing Yuuko off to work. Yuuko had called him over, gave him a smile, and left for work, just as Takeshi invited Yuuri in for tea and, after much dodging and reassurances that he was okay, Nishigori, _really_ , the older man eventually got him to rant a little about his jerk of a client.

Still, while he was getting all his anger and frustration out, he’d been considering something, and he put his cup down.

“He’s not completely at fault, though,” he confessed. “It’s part of my job — actually it’s the _most important part_ of my job to make sure that the products are in pristine condition. And I didn’t check at all. I got too cocky.” And as a fanboy himself, he understood the severity of his mistake with the Poodlebot job; he’d be devastated if even the tiniest speck got onto any of his Plushenko or Weir posters.

He glanced down at his tea. “Maybe I should quit.”

Takeshi set his cup down, frowning heavily. “If this is because of that Poodlebot jerk, you shouldn’t let him get to you, you know?”

Yuuri lightly scratched his cheek. “I know, but it’s not just him. It just… It’s just not as fun as it used to be, I guess.”

Waking up extra-early to get the first train or to bike to the shop had helped him somewhat stabilize his biological clock, researching the best item was always interesting (and, admittedly, sometimes sucked him into an hours-long trawl through new ice skating merch for himself), and he liked the challenge of getting the best item before anyone else did.

But for the last couple months, as he raced for more and more products made by other people, his not-so-secret wish to have one of his own inventions become just as sought-after just grew and grew along with the depressing thought that, in reality, they usually barely sold a single yen.

“And,” he fidgeted in his seat and gripped his ankles, “remember that competition I signed up for? The one where I got into the final round?”

“Oh, yeah. The prize is 10 million yen, right?”

When Takeshi nodded, Yuuri continued, smiling a little now, “Well, I was thinking, even if I didn’t win, I’d at least get some recognition for my inventions, right? And I’ve been sketching ideas again lately…”

Takeshi looked at him with those pity-eyes again. Yuuri fought the urge to scowl. “Yuuri,” Takeshi said, “are you _sure_ you still wanna be an entrepreneur?”

Yuuri pursed his lips, rubbing a finger against the ridges of the cylindrical teacup. “It’s still my dream. I’ll do it no matter what.”

Takeshi was silent for a moment, probably thinking of ways to discourage him, but finally sighed. They’ve been friends for long enough to know how stubborn Yuuri could get, especially on things that were important to him.

“Alright, then,” Takeshi said, taking another sip of tea. “So, if you’re quitting, does that mean you’ll be taking up more hours with the café or with the studio?”

“I’ll have to talk to Chris and Masumi about it, but yeah,” Yuuri sighed again. “I should probably look for other jobs, though. I don’t wanna keep taking advantage of them.”

Takeshi chuckled, “Nah, they’re probably happy that you’re helping them out. Plus, you know Masumi wouldn’t have hired you if you weren’t a good dancer!”

“That’s true, I guess…”

It did make sense, but it was still making him anxious thinking about it. It’s one of the reasons why he’s so jittery about the competition too; not only was it a step closer to his dream of getting his inventions out there, but it would also mean he wouldn’t have to make Chris and Masumi pay him for hiring him out of the goodness (and some pity) of their hearts.

“Hey, you know, if you take up more classes at the studio, you’ll get a lot less jerks like Poodlebot,” Takeshi grinned.

Yuuri scowled at the reminder. Poodlebot wasn’t his first asshole of a client, but it still frustrated him every time he encountered one. “I hope I never run into him again,” Yuuri grumbled.

Takeshi chuckled good-naturedly. “Hey, Tokyo’s a big city! What would be the odds?”

 

Yuuri’s smile turned grim, but he nodded, knowing he didn’t really have a choice. “That’s alright, Nekola-san. No really, it’s alright. It’s only another day, right? It’s an easy fix? Oh, no, sorry, I didn’t mean… No, no, of course, of course, it’s not that easy if it’s going to take another day to finish, I didn’t want to imply... Right, sorry. No, no, it’s okay, _I’m_ sorry. ...Yes, it’s really alright, I owe you a lot for helping me out. Thank you, Nekola-san. Yes, goodbye, then, thank you.”

He hung up first. It was one of the things he’d always worried about, whether to hang up first or not, because if you hung up first you might come off rude, but if you didn’t hang up first and the other person didn’t hang up first either, then you’d both have to stay in an uncomfortable silence until one of you gets to courage to. So now he always hung up first. It was a sacrifice he had to make, but he figured he’d rather save them both the awkwardness.

Sighing, he pushed open the café doors, the little bell chiming happily as he stepped inside. Chris looked up from behind the counter, and smiled. Sometimes Yuuri still couldn’t believe that such a beautiful man was friends with him. And a good friend, too.

“Yuuri!” Chris greeted warmly, resting his elbows on the counter as he put his chin in his hand. “So, how did the shopping go?”

“Hey, Chris,” he smiled. “It went terribly. The client was a jerk. I’m thinking of quitting being a personal shopper, actually.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. But I suppose clients like that are unavoidable in business.”

Leave it to Chris to be nonchalant about these things. Yuuri’s smile widened as he ordered a coffee to go.

As Chris made his coffee, the Swiss man asked, “Does this mean you’re going to be taking on more classes at the studio?”

“I’m thinking about it, yeah,” Yuuri rubbed the nape of his neck. Honestly, he was thinking about quitting both jobs before either Chris or Masumi came to their senses and realized Yuuri was basically taking advantage of their kind offers of keeping him out of unemployment. But Chris didn’t need to know that. Plus, at the back of his mind, he was well aware that both of them didn’t really mind him working for them, but it was still something he felt he was troubling them with.

Chris turned back around with his usual flirtatious smile as he handed Yuuri his styrofoam cup. “Well, if you ever get tired of teaching, there’s always a place for you here to make coffee for people. I’m sure some of the regulars would be more than ecstatic if you’re here more often,” Chris winked.

Yuuri chuckled. Chris’ flirtatious remarks or offhand comments about how attractive Yuuri was had always caught him off guard at first, but he later realized it was just part of his personality. He was more than used to it now, and Masumi always laughed along good-naturedly whenever he was within hearing range.

“I’ll consider it,” he quipped, leaving a hefty tip in the jar near the register, as usual. Chris glanced at it, but didn’t comment. He’d tried talking Yuuri out of it the first several times, but Yuuri persisted, and Chris had finally just been letting him do it.

Grabbing his coffee, he raised it in a mock salute before turning for the door. “Thanks for the coffee, Chris! I’ll tell Masumi you said hi.”

“Slap his ass for me, Yuuri!” Chris called, grinning brightly.

Yuuri’s face flushed hot and red, and he laughed as he exited the shop.

 

Yuuri did not, in fact, slap Masumi’s ass on behalf of his husband. He did tell the older man that Chris told him to do it, and Masumi just laughed his usual good-natured but fond laugh whenever Chris’ flirtatiousness came up in conversation.

“I know a lot of students who’d be more than happy to have you teach more classes here,” Masumi said, to which Yuuri just chuckled.

“Chris said the same thing for working at his cafe. Did you guys plan that?” he joked.

Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to have someone like that, someone who understood you to the point that you sometimes think the same things. It was a bit scary but also kinda exciting to think about. But who would want an anxious mess like him, anyway? Plus, his priority right now was to finally get his inventions out there. It was a tough and competitive business, after all, and he’d been in it since he’d graduated college. Which, admittedly, wasn’t that long ago. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t stop trying.

After his last class, he decided to grab another coffee and a sandwich. He debated on whether he should get one from Chris’ shop, but he already dropped by earlier as a customer, and he didn’t want to seem like he was taking advantage of the fact that they’re friends in order to get the half-priced coffee (the “friendship discount,” according to Chris, was supposed to be free, but Yuuri absolutely refused, so they compromised, somewhat; the tip wasn’t part of the compromise, on Chris’ end at least, but he’d eventually conceded anyway).

He settled for a quaint little shop a couple blocks away. It was on the way to his apartment, at least, and the sandwich looked good. Or maybe that was just the appetite he’d gained after hours of dancing.

He ordered a coffee and a fried pork cutlet sandwich (he figured he deserved it after the stressful day he’d had), then looked around for a free seat. There were plenty of two-seat tables, which was great for his anxiety of sitting all alone at a four-seater. He was about to move towards one, when someone called his name.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri flinched, and glanced towards the voice, blinking at the dark bowl-cut styled hair that somehow looked good, the dark eyes lined with black winged eyeliner, and the boyish softness of the man’s face. He blinked again as all those features finally processed in his brain, “Phichit?”

Phichit Chulanont’s (or, he supposed, _Doctor Chulanont’s_ ) face brightened as he stood up and flung his arms out. “Yuuri, holy shit!”

“Shhhh! Phichit! Calm down,” he chuckled, too giddy at seeing his best friend again to worry too much about the fact that Phichit was making a scene. The younger man ignored him and rushed to present himself in front of Yuuri for a bear hug, which Yuuri obliged.

“Holy shit, it’s been _ages_!” Phichit said once they’d pulled apart, and Yuuri shushed him again, but the scolding tone (if a shush could have a tone) was diminished by the fact that he was smiling. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m doing… okay, I guess,” he chuckled wryly. “How about you? I thought you went back home.”

“Yeah, I did, but I met these really cool guys in MIT, and we all agreed to start up here in one of the biggest robotics-renowned countries in the world! I would’ve gone to South Korea, but my best friend isn’t there,” Phichit grinned, elbowing him in the side.

“Aww, I missed you too,” Yuuri smiled. “You didn’t mention this in your emails, though.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise! Plus, me and my team wanted to set up here first, find out feet. Especially since we’ve never been in Japan— oh wait, let me show you some pictures of them!”

“The ones you sent in your emails weren’t enough?” he chuckled.

“Of course not! Those are _old photos_ now, Yuuri!”

They sat themselves down at Phichit’s table, which already had a cup of coffee and what looked like a steak sandwich. Yuuri took a bite of his own sandwich while Phichit brought up his phone’s photo gallery.

“Okay, so this is Leo,” Phichit tilted the phone towards Yuuri as he scooted his chair closer, “he grew his hair out, remember? It looks really good on him too! I can’t remember if I mentioned this, but he’s my lead programmer and he’s amazing! That’s Guang Hong beside him, he’s the youngest, and he’s still taking classes online, but he helps Leo with the coding. He’s really good at it too. I think he has a crush on Leo, actually... Oh, and this is Seung-gil! His limbs are the best! The ones he makes, I mean. They’re so human-like! But he _is_ really hot, though, it’d be a crime to deny that. And his hands are pretty. But not in a creepy way, I mean—”

“Wait, is that…?” Yuuri’s eyes widened as he raised a hand towards the screen, where a picture of a very familiar face smiled back at him.

“Oh!” Phichit crowed, eyes lighting up as his grin stretched even wider. “Yeah! Yuuri, we did it! We made KATSU3!”

“Oh man, how long has it been since we were just brainstorming this?” Yuuri chuckled, more to get rid of that uncomfortable uncanny valley feeling from seeing his own face on top a very chrome and very robotic torso. He also now knew what he’d look like if he were bald.

“I know, right? Seems like it was only yesterday… But KATSU3 is all done now! Here, look!” Phichit swiped quickly and efficiently to a photo of what looked to be Yuuri in one of his old dance costumes. It even had his usual slicked-back hair to complete the look.

“Whoa, it really looks just like me!”

Somehow, that uncomfortable feeling wasn’t present (or at least, not too much) when he saw the robot fully-clothed with lots of hair and lots of skin. It looked like any other human, except it had his face.

“Are you sure this isn’t just a photo of me, though?” he joked, making Phichit snort, grinning. “It’s a little creepy thinking that’s my face on a robot, though. Why did we decide to model it after us, again?”

“I don’t remember. Something about a patent, I think? We were drunk, so I only remember a few bits of it,” Phichit shrugged. “But that handsome face sure helped us reel in our investor, I’d bet!” Phichit grinned, elbowing him playfully.

“You already have an investor?” He decided to focus on that instead of Phichit’s usual best-friend-compliment on his looks, and grinned brightly at his friend’s achievement. “Congratulations, Phichit!”

Phichit beamed back at him, aglow with pride. “Thanks, Yuuri! We couldn’t have done it without your ideas, though! Oh, shit, that reminds me! Yuuri! Please!” Phichit clasped his hands together in front of him, “Do us this one favor!”

Yuuri had a long history of Phichit’s favors, and in the most extreme of cases (usually involving his inventions), it usually ended up with them either almost getting arrested or almost getting blown up. He squinted at the young engineer, already suspicious, “What is it?”

“KATSU3 got into a little accident,” Phichit grimaced, “but the parts we need won’t be here until Saturday. And we have a test run scheduled on Friday!”

“Couldn’t you ask to reschedule it?”

“I tried! But apparently, our company is going to be sold off in two days, so our hands are tied,” Phichit whined.

Yuuri sighed, “I don’t think I like where this is going…”

“ _Please_ , Yuuri?” Phichit clapped his hands together again and bowed his head. “Please pretend to be KATSU3?”

“I knew I wouldn’t like where this is going.”

“It’s just one day! And KATSU3 acts like a human, anyway! Nikiforov won’t even notice!”

“Nikiforov?” It sounded like a Russian name; there weren’t many Russian investors or companies that he knew of in Japan.

“Yeah! He’s like the head of VN Financials!”

“WHAT!?” Yuuri almost dropped his sandwich, but with a bit of fumbling, thankfully caught it back in his hands. “You mean _the_ VN Financials? The one with the Young Entrepreneurs competition?!”

“Yeah- Oooooh! Yuuri!” Phichit gasped, slapping his hands to his cheeks as his eyes practically _twinkled_ , “Are you entering the contest?”

Yuuri put a hand to his stomach, suddenly feeling queasy. “Oh no, Phichit, I don’t think I can do this…”

“Please! You’re our only hope! Please, Yuuri, pleaaaase?”

Yuuri groaned, ducking his head as he tried to physically shut out Phichit’s puppy-dog eyes.

“I’ll buy you pork cutlet sandwiches for a month!”

Yuuri lifted his head at that, scrutinizing Phichit’s earnest face carefully. “From this shop?” Their pork cutlet sandwich was really good, though a bit pricey.

Phichit grimaced at the fate of his wallet, but nodded, lips pursed into a grim but determined line. “Yes! Absolutely!”

“Put that in writing, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“YES!” Phichit shot out of his chair again, punching the air with his fists.

Yuuri shushed him again, this time a bit more sternly. He didn’t want them getting asked to leave for public disturbance, especially since Phichit was going to be coming here every day for the next month.

Phichit finally sat back down, practically vibrating gratitude as he put his hands together again and bowed his head. “Thank you so much, Yuuri! You’re a life-saver! I’ll put in a good word for your inventions, don’t worry!”

Yuuri quickly flailed his hands in front of him, flustered yet pleased at the thought. “Oh, no, no, you don’t have to do that! The one month of free sandwiches is more than enough!”

“I insist! It’s the least I could do for my best buddy!”

“Aww. Thanks, Phichit,” Yuuri smiled, soft. “I’ve missed you.”

Phichit smiled back, not as wide as before but with just as much joy. “I’ve missed you too, Yuuri. I’m so glad we got to meet again.”

Yuuri smirked, “Because I’m gonna save your sorry asses?”

“That, too,” Phichit laughed.

 

“Whoa,” Yuuri sucked in a breath, coming to a stop as he entered the room. “It really looks like me…”

He already knew what to expect, but seeing it in a photo the day before (high-def, of course, because Phichit would never settle for anything less and the thought alone might even give him a mild stroke) and seeing it in person, just a few feet away from him, right this instance were two very, _very_ different things.

“Right?” At his side, Phichit beamed, one hand proudly on his hips (the other was carrying a four-pack of coffees to go) as he looked on at what was probably his greatest invention yet. “Wait till the others see you two side by side,” he snickered.

“Oh.”

Yuuri looked over at one of the alcoves, where a pale-skinned man around his height, with dark hair and strong brows and a mildly surprised expression that he quickly schooled into an impassive look.

“Seung-gil! Good morning!” Phichit raised his arm at the other man, grinning. “Look who’s here!”

“Yuuri Katsuki, I presume,” Seung-gil stepped towards them, giving Yuuri an acknowledging nod.

Yuuri nodded back, “Yeah. That’s… that’s me.” After a beat, he said, “And you’re Seung-gil.” And then he realized how stupid that sounded, because Phichit just said his name, so he clamped his mouth shut and averted his eyes to the ground.

“Art really does imitate life,” Seung-gil noted placidly to Phichit. Yuuri wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but from how Phichit practically glowed at the comment, Yuuri assumed it was about how closely KATSU3 physically resembled the real thing, which was him. Unless he meant KATSU3 was also an awkward ball of anxiety, which he doubted, since KATSU3 was supposed to be a socially-empathetic robot, so it definitely must’ve been a compliment on Phichit’s skills.

“Phichit, is that you? Did you get me my— _oh my god_!” a young voice squeaked, the owner of which looked to be a mousy boy who didn’t look older than 18.

Yuuri presumed this was probably Guang Hong, from what he remembered from Phichit’s pictures. Before Yuuri could say anything, someone else emerged from the alcove behind Guang Hong, “Mine, too, Phichit! Oh. Did the parts for KATSU3 arrive already?”

Phichit snorted a laugh out of his nose. It sounded like it hurt, but he didn’t seem to mind it too much, since he was too busy laughing. Yuuri chuckled awkwardly beside him, not sure if the newcomer—Leo, probably—was joking or not.

“Wait, Seung-gil, did you add some more titanium to his legs or something? They look thicker.” From his concerned words and from the frown on his face as his looked contemplatively at Yuuri’s thighs, which Yuuri fought the urge to cover with his hands, Yuuri guessed he was actually serious and mistook him for KATSU3.

“Leo, it’s not KATSU3,” Seung-gil said, in a put-upon tone as unassuming as ever, as if the mistaken identity thing was getting old now.

“Huh? Really?!” Leo blinked at Seung-gil, who looked on without changing his expression, and Leo glanced back at Yuuri and did a double-take. “Whoa! Then you must be Yuuri Katsuki! Sorry about that,” he chuckled, blushing slightly as he glanced at Yuuri’s thighs again. He cleared his throat, and extended his hand, smiling at Yuuri, “I’m Leo, by the way. Leo de la Iglesia.”

“Uh. Yeah. That’s right. I mean, yes, I’m Yuuri.” Yuuri shook Leo’s hand to make himself shut up before he said anything awkward again. “Phichit told me about you guys.”

“Wait, so you’re really not KATSU3?” Guang Hong piped up, looking like he finally shook out of his surprised daze, and cautiously approached them, staring with wide, starry eyes at Yuuri’s face.

“I got that a lot today,” Yuuri said, smiling wryly.

“Wow, Phichit! You’re really amazing!” Guang Hong gushed, glancing between Yuuri and the actual robot seated a few feet away on a lit-up platform.

Phichit, upon hearing the praise, finally stopped laughing to beam proudly yet again, straightening up as he did. “Heh! Oh, I know. Got your coffee, by the way,” he held up the four-pack in his hand.

As the small team took up their styrofoam cups, Seung-gil turned to Phichit, “You told him the plan, then?”

Phichit nodded, grinning boyishly.

“And he _agreed_ to it?” Seung-gil frowned towards Yuuri, questioning. Honestly, Yuuri was questioning himself too.

Phichit laughed, “I have my ways!”

“I suddenly feel like I need _two_ months of free food instead,” Yuuri muttered.

“Aw, come on, Yuuri! Have some mercy on my wallet!”

Yuuri suppressed a smile, groaning instead as if it were some great burden on him. “ _Fine._ I still want that in writing, though.”

“Right! But first,” Phichit raised a finger, eyes glinting in a way that gave Yuuri war flashbacks of their college shenanigans, “training!”

 

Yuuri met a cute little robot called BEETLE, and together with the Santa Maria Team, the five of them coached him on how to move and behave like KATSU3. Though KATSU3 was a robot, he was programmed to be indistinguishable from a human, so his movements were supposed to be pretty fluid and natural.

After he got the hang of moving in a slower, more calculated way while at the same time trying to make it not look forced, they helped him into a surprisingly heavy body armor of sorts that started just at the top of his pectorals and ended at the middle of his thighs. It also made his stomach tuck in a bit too uncomfortably, and he grunted as it pressed into the soft fat there.

“Sorry about that,” Phichit glanced at him, brows pinched. Yuuri thought it had been too soft to hear, but apparently, Phichit _did_ hear.

Yuuri quickly shook his head, “No, no, it’s okay. I’ve been dieting anyway,” he chuckled, trying to reassure his friend that he wasn’t uncomfortable. He was still working off all the fat he’d gained from visiting home recently, and while both his personal shopper and dance instructor jobs have helped keep him fit, he still felt embarrassed whenever he had to change into skin-tight clothing for dancing.

“It’s only for a day, I promise.” Phichit nodded determinedly, more to himself than to Yuuri, it looked like. “And afterwards, you could go back to not being a robot, and nobody would even know there was a switch!”

They slicked his hair back, a healthy dose of hairspray keeping it in place. “It’s how we styled KATSU3’s hair too,” Guang Hong said, when Yuuri noticed the spraycans.

They gave him a copy of his old dance costume and sent him to one of the alcoves to change. He would’ve brought the original costume since it was one of the few performances that didn’t make him absolutely cringe out of his body when he thought about it, but that costume was way back at home. Thankfully, Phichit mentioned he had another set as backup for KATSU3.

When Yuuri stepped out, adjusting the cufflinks in the sleeves, he stopped just at the side of KATSU3’s platform, where the robot had been made to stand up from his seat. Yuuri glanced up at his robot duplicate, before glancing down at himself, and then towards the stunned faces of the research team.

Well, Leo and Guang Hong were visibly stunned, at least. Seung-gil’s brows were raised, and he looked mildly impressed, while Phichit just blatantly looked smug and proud. Which, honestly, he should be. Looking at KATSU3 and how Yuuri was all dolled up now, there really wasn’t any visible difference between the two of them.

“Perfect! Nikiforov won’t be able to tell a thing!” Phichit grinned, looking just short of patting himself on the back.

“Neither will I,” Yuuri muttered, taking in his blurry surroundings. He would have brought his contacts with him, but Phichit had told him yesterday that he wouldn’t need them.

“Oh, right!” Phichit rummaged in his pocket and handed him a contact lens case. “Put these on. They’re in your grade too, so they should work perfectly.”

“You didn’t have to get me new ones,” Yuuri protested, hesitantly taking the small case.

“Trust me, these are _much_ different from your usual contact lenses,” Phichit grinned.

Yuuri squinted at the case, and cautiously opened it up. Inside looked to be two normal contact lenses. He raised an eyebrow at Phichit, but the younger man just waved a hand at him, urging him on.

Seung-gil sighed, and stepped towards them, offering Yuuri what looked to be a white smartwatch. “This is a wireless transmitter,” Seung-gil said. “Put it on your wrist. It’ll connect with the contacts.”

“Eh?” Yuuri stared at the transmitter in Seung-gil’s hand.

“Seung-gil!” Phichit rounded on the other man, whining. “You’re gonna ruin the surprise!”

“It would be better to reassure him that this isn’t one of your more volatile inventions,” Seung-gil said.

“I would never put Yuuri in danger like that!” Phichit scowled darkly at the other man. Then averted his eyes, “Not intentionally, at least. And not without his consent!”

Yuuri chuckled, remembering all the times in college when he did, admittedly, know the kind of dangers Phichit’s more adventurous inventions could have, but still agreed to them anyway. Though, in his defense, he never knew exactly _how_ dangerous they could get.

He strapped the transmitter around his wrist and put the contacts on.

A UI popped into existence in front of his eyes, and he jumped, nearly dropping the lens case. “What the—!”

“Ta-da!” Phichit threw his hands out to the sides, grin stretching wide and bright. “Cool, right?”

“Wow,” Yuuri whispered, and as his gaze landed on the team members, boxes of text containing their information and credentials popped into his view.

From a nearby computer, Leo said, “I just connected you to our network. KATSU3 and the whole team can now see and hear everything you do.”

Phichit nodded, satisfied. “So, you don’t have to worry about a thing! We’ll give you all the instructions you need, either through text or through video. Just follow them, and you’re good to go.”

Yuuri nodded, sighing in relief. At least he wasn’t going into this completely blind.

Phichit turned to KATSU3, “Hi, KATSU3.”

KATSU3’s shoulders shifted, and the robot looked like he was taking a breath, before saying, “Welcome back, Master. What can I help you with?”

The same words appeared in a pale yellow textbox at the bottom of Yuuri’s UI-vision, and he opened his mouth to repeat it, “Welcome back, Mast- Ohhh, _gods._ ” He winced. “ _Why_ did you make that his greeting?”

“You said maid and butler cafe!” Phichit protested, but he was grinning, like the little shit he was.

“We were drunk!” Yuuri wailed, hiding in face in his hands as more bits and pieces of that  drunken brainstorming session back in college came flooding back. “And _underage drinking_ too, by the way!”

“Hey, don’t blame _me_!” Phichit snorted, still grinning. “You were the one who said you were turning twenty-one in a month anyway!”

“Midterms were hell, okay? Ugh. But why did you _keep_ that idea?” Keeping one hand on his face, Yuuri waved the other at KATSU3’s general direction.

“Because it was funny.”

Of course. Yuuri should have known. Phichit was the one who introduced Yuuri to memes, after all.

Sighing, Yuuri rubbed his face with his hands. “I never should’ve suggested that. Drunk Yuuri, why.”

“Drunk Yuuri _yes_!” Phichit cackled.

“Unfortunate though it is, that is what has been programmed into KATSU3, and the team leader refuses to change it,” Seung-gil said, sending a cold look towards Phichit, who just kept on grinning. “So you should get used to saying it.”

“Sorry, Yuuri,” Phichit said, but he was still grinning so he was obviously not sorry at all.

“Laugh at my pain, sure,” Yuuri deadpanned. “I’m adding an actual pork cutlet bowl every weekend into my fee.”

“Aw, c’mon!” Phichit sighed, but eventually agreed. Yuuri’s dignity was on the line here, after all.

 

_So this must be what being buried alive feels like,_ Yuuri thought and immediately punched that idea in the face and shoved it into a very far corner of his mind. He didn’t need anything else raising his anxiety levels, thanks very much.

At least there was a rectangular hole at eye-level, and he was in the back of a van, so he didn’t really need to worry about suffocating to death.

He took several deep, measured breaths to prove his point and to calm himself down. Nothing to worry about. Just going to see the head of one the company whose competition he was putting the fate of his future into. And pretending to be the robot he was going to be investing in. Nope, nothing to worry about at all.

Finally, he heard the doors of the van open, and he and the box were brought out and upright. Sunlight assaulted him from the little window of the box, and he squinted against it. From what he could see, the house—no, _mansion_ was _really_ nice. It even had pillars!

_Well, he_ is _the head of a really successful company._

Leo and Guang Hong glanced at him—or at least, his eyes, since that was all they could see of him through the little window in the box—and they both gave him a reassuring smile as they rolled him and the box to the front door.

“We’re in,” Guang Hong said into his phone, probably to Phichit. Yuuri had to stifle a snort at the meme.

“Sorry for in— uh, intruding!” Leo said in Japanese, stumbling a little over the words, but it was fairly understandable. As they rolled him through the door, Yuuri straightened his back, placed both hands on his stomach while cupping one hand, and closed his eyes. Nikiforov-san didn’t answer the door, which he supposed was a really-rich person thing, but just in case the man was nearby, he decided he had to get into character. And KATSU3 wasn’t supposed to be on until Nikiforov-san greeted him, as was part of the test.

“Ah, good morning, Mr. Nikiforov,” Leo said, voice raised a bit. So Nikiforov-san must be across the room, at least, since the three of them didn't get far from the door.

“Good morning, sir,” Guang Hong echoed.

“KATSU3 is here, as agreed,” Leo said. And then Yuuri heard the box’s door being unlocked and opened. More light filtered in through his eyelids, but he kept them closed.

A few beats of silence, before Leo let out a forced, polite chuckle.

“A glass of water would’ve been nice,” Leo mumbled. “Instead we get the three-part baton waved at us in dismissal.”

_Three-part baton?_ Yuuri frowned, before remembering himself and smoothing down his brows. _Oh, right, Phichit told me the business world called Nikiforov-san the ‘Three-part Baton’ because he carries one around all the time and is never seen without it. What a scary guy._

And to think he was going to be spending half a day with him while pretending to be a robot. He shoved that thought into the back of his head, in case he started sweating from nerves and anxiety. Robots didn’t sweat, after all.

“Yo— yoro-she-ku oni-gaishima-su,” Leo said with a bit of fumbling, though Guang Hong had a bit more success. They both overemphasized the syllables, but they got the message across, “Then, please excuse us.” Then, some sounds of shuffling and footsteps, and a door closing. Then silence.

Then footsteps coming down a set of stairs. Yuuri held his breath, willing himself not to even twitch. He’s supposed to be off right now, but the wait was really doing a number on him.

Finally, the footsteps got closer until they stopped a few feet away from him and the box. He didn’t dare move.

“Hi,” Nikiforov-san said, “KATSU3.”

Yuuri slowly let out a breath, opening his eyes and focusing them on the man before him— and he had to catch his breath again, because _whoa_ , he’s _gorgeous_! Pale, platinum blond hair shining silver under the sunlight, mesmerizing blue eyes, broad shoulders, and what looked to be a lean frame hidden underneath the sweater, if only judging by the man’s legs.

_STEP ON ME_ was really his main thought right now, but he shoved that thought down, willing himself not to blurt it out or drool. Phichit would probably be teasing him if he shared his thoughts with him— or maybe drooling along with him, if he didn’t do that already when he first laid eyes on this gorgeous specimen.

Oh wait. Phichit. KATSU3. The test. Right, he was supposed to be greeting him. Right. Thank god he wouldn’t have to struggle with words in front of this Adonis.

“Welcome back, Master,” he said, staring Nikiforov-san right in those familiar blue eyes. “What can I—” Wait, ‘familiar?’

Yuuri paused, and looked, _really looked_ , at Nikiforov’s eyes. Something about them — the shape of them, the blueness, or maybe the weight of his gaze — it all somehow felt familiar, like he’d seen them before somewhere, but angry or something…

Wait, angry?

Yuuri blinked and a flash of cold blue eyes glaring at him over the rim of a car window as a voice fake-cheerfully said that he didn’t feel like giving Yuuri the other half of the payment anymore—

“OH MY GOD!” he yelped and jumped back in surprise and horror, his back bumping into the back of the box. The sensation punched through his shock and reminded him, with a chill climbing up his spine, that he was supposed to be pretending to be a robot, and that this man— _Poodlebot_ , who was also apparently _Nikiforov_ , the _potential investor_ for Phichit and his team—this man was going to help Phichit with his _dream_. And Yuuri just fucked that up by yelling at him and jumping away from him.

From the look of surprise in Nikiforov’s face (gorgeous though he is, Yuuri clearly remembers how much of a jerk he is, and he doesn’t feel like giving him an ounce of respect, at least in his head) and the very obvious step back he’d taken, he was just as surprised as Yuuri.

Oh wait. Shit.

Poodlebot— Nikiforov must have seen his face too, back then.

Oh.

_Phichit,_ Yuuri thought, too horrified to look away from Nikiforov’s surprised expression, _I am so sorry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, yuuri is still an ice skating fanboy. and yes, he's a fanboy of both the ice skaters viktor was inspired from (one from fanon and one as mentioned by kubo-sensei herself).
> 
> **edit:** i've been watching so much kdrama that i forgot one of the most basic things about japanese vs korean culture: the differences in manners and greetings! i didn't notice before but apparently koreans don't really have any established etiquette when arriving at/leaving someone else's house, whoops.


End file.
